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To and fro, as the wild waves go,
By this specimen you will perceive that Over a dead man's corpse just so
Miss Bathos belongs to that very numerous The wind did sweep, and would bave bush'd lo
class which yow infest all literary parties sleep, Did it not keep
with their mawkish and unpatural imitaThe prisoner wild in his jeopardy,
tion of him, the inimitable; fancying, that Who could not, dared not, must not cry, if they can but catch a similar clink of
In the thrilling fear of his agony: rhyme, they immediately become possesFrom his forehead pour'd the sweats of death,
sors of the same bright and redeeming And he stopp'd but once to catch his breath, Wben, lo! a wall beneath bim stood,
spirit of originality; thus wasting their And a calm came o'er his cbilling blood.
ink, and wearying out our patience by But as his feet upon it fell,
their fat sublimity and senseless bombast. He beard, as he thought, a borrible yell, Not so thought, or appeared to think, the And he dropt on his knee, for he could not stand; | rest of the Blue Stocking sisterbood; He clung with a feeble and powerless hand, for at the close of the recitation Miss Ba. And groped, and felt, for he could not see,
thos was overwhelmed with laudatory That the wall was as wide as his foot might be. Onward, onward still he erept,
ejaculations, such as—" novel idea-cliAs ever and anon a sulph'ry stench,
max of interest - refreshing naiveté-emanJo lurid cloud uprose,
ation of intellect," and a thousand other Till faint with toil, and feeble grown,
equally vapid and backvied expressions. His blood seem'd frozen into stone ;
A cockney poet, and a laker, each added The iron grasp, the desperate wrench, And still, and still the maddening clench
their scintillations of genius to this “ban'Gap weak and weaker to unclose;
quet of high poesy." All this, you will He reeled and fell
say, is very stupid, but to me it is suffici. The smoking waves all fiery splashing,
ently amusing. My brother abominates
Yet still the prisoner spraug,
you will guess the occasion. My dear Tbo' the froth and the foam of that Stygean Count, linked with two or three dashing stream
creatures, was on the point of passing the Howled and hissed in a boiling steam,
carriage; he saw me-broke from them Wbile perveless waxed his sinews, but the dread and in the next minute we were together.
Of being number'd with the dead, Join'd flesh and bone in one awful struggle,
My gallant brother observing that I was Ere rose io his throat the strangling guggle,
under his protection, ensconced himself in Ere fajled his strength. Ob, God!-a buat, one corner of our vehicle; pulled out the For so his outstretched ken did note.
last new French romance, and slept over Short was the distance where il lay,
it, I suppose, for he declared that we reAnd gasping on he sped his weary way. mained in the sbop two hours. I reckonOr rose it from beneath,
ed them as two minutes; “ tempus fugit," Or wasted by the breath Of seraphim above—no matter, it was there,
said my brother. Ah! my dear Lisette, So gladden'd was his bope, as dreadful bis de- | when two hearts attract each other, the spair.
duration of time has small chance of being Now was he safe, for now that boat he beld, regarded. He is undoubtedly a most beOh! how bis aching heart its throbbing pulses witching man; he presented me with the quell'd,
sweetest URLing's lace dress in the world; Quelled for ao instant-again returned,
which, on his account, as well as the Again bis limbs the living lava burned ; His hope-bis all-tbat shell, too, sank.
extreme beauty of this new lace, I shall Came there an odour, poisonous, raok,
wear with more pleasure than any other And hell seemd opening down below,
part of my wardrobe.
And in answer The sereams of all the damned-in vivid glow, to your inquiry respecting this lace, I asFlasbing their shade, their substance none can
sure you I have seen some articles not a know, And with that torment be awoke,
thousand years behind the chef d'auvres of
Brussels. But what has lace to do with Started, and gazed, and pass'd his band atbwart bis brow,
love? To you, my coquet, both themes But never, never spoke.
are equally acceptable, however, you must No. 145.-Vol. XXIII.
give me credit for my forbearance, when I Lastly, called at in Bond-street. tell you that I refrain from entering upon Life Guardsmen, Exquisites, and belles a more delicate analysis of my feelings. tittering and sneezing. Methinks I see you turn up your eyes, and My brother now declared himself quite exclaim, with a provoking yawn—" Now weary of chaperoning me, and drove off pour les sentiments ennuyants." Heaven for- to dress, in order to exhibit his travelling give you, mad-cap, you would never do for knowledge at Lord Cognoscenti's. I am the confidante of a boarding school young dressing myself for Earl B-'s dipper lády! And, so he says, I am to meet him and the Opera.—Expect to hear from me at the masquerade, on Friday—Shall I go? | again shortly, and receive the affectionate No; yet, after all, I suppose I must-des
adieus of your tiny will compel me.
effect this diabolical purpose, which is thus defealed;
and his suspicions of her guilt are some-,
what sbaken by her conduct on this occasion. DRURY-IANE.
Laura and Michael having, in the mean time, A new play has been produced at this prevailed on Durazzo to come into their plans, Theatre, entitled Montalto. The plot is the latter, in the night, opens the gates of Mon
talto's castle, and admits Count Bassanio. Monas follows:
tolto is roused, and opposes the enemy, but, in Montalto, by marrying Julia, has become the || doing sn, receives a mortal wound. In this situsovereigo of a principality in Italy, to the exclu
ation his passions are again wronght on by Laura sion of Laura, the consin of Julia, whose affec- || and Michael, and he is persuaded that it was by tion, at an early period of ber life, had been || Julia's treachery that Bassanio was admitted into slighted by Montalto: irritated by this slight, the castle, and Durazzo induced to become a and urged hy ambition to obtain possession of trajtor; and, under this impression, he, in the those honours possessed by Montalto, in right | agonies of dissolution, curses his innocent wife. of her cousin Julia, she determines on revenge ;
At this period, however, Laura is informed that and, as a preliminary step to obtaining it, mar- Durazzo and Michael have fallen victims to their ries Durazzo, a favourite and confidential officer | treachery; and, struck with remorse, she then of Montalto; and, having succeeded in seducing confesses her own guilt, and the arts which have Michael, the brother of Durazzo, to become a
been used to deceive her unsuspecting victim. party to her designs, she makes use of the in.
Montalto thus undeceived, revokes bis curse, Anence which he has over his brother, to prevail and dies, blessing the innocent object of his onon him to betray bis benefactor and friend Mont.
just suspicions. alto.-Such is the situation of the parties at the opening of the piece, at which time Montalto, who has been absent on an expedition against a
COVENT-GARDEN. veighbouring Prince (Count Bassanio), arrives
At this Theatre an interesting drama has suddenly and unexpectedly at his own castle, in ) been produced, entitled Mirandola. The duced to do so by a mysterious written warning, following is a sketch of the plot:which he finds on his table in his tent, cautioning him to be careful that, during his absence, bis Guido and Isidora bave long entertained a muhonour was not betrayed by his wife. The busi- tual passion, unknown to the Duke of Mirandola. ness of the piece then consists of the endeavours The young Prince, called away to defend his of Laura, aided by Michael's base insinuations, country in arms, is desperately wounded, and it to increase and strengthen the seeds of jealousy is reported to his mistress and his father that he already sown in the mind of Montalto by the is dead. The Duke, in an evil hour, sees Isi. conteuts of the paper found in his tent, and dora, loves her, and, noder the impression that which had been placed there by their contrivance. Guido was no more, obtains from her a weeping In these plans they were aided by the unsuspi. || and cold consent to marry bim. Guido writes to cious and open character of Julia ; and the jea- his father and his mistress the news of his lousy of Montalto is at length raised to such a recovery; but the letters are intercepted by beight, that he is led to attempt to poignard his ) Isabella, the sister of the Duke, a sort of female innocent victim whilst sleeping in her bed. She | Tago, who labours, in concert with the miscreant awakes, however, at the instant he is abont to Il monk Gheraldi, to ruin Guido, for the parpose of placing in the hands of her own sou the sceptre house : he flatters himself that (thanks to of Mirandola ; and, in ignorance of Guido's ll the name of Valcour, which he has taken, existence on this side the grare, the fatal union
and the alteration that time has made in takes place. It is at this distressing moment that Guido returns. He meets Isidora, and the inter
his features) he shall be incognisable to his view is full of tenderness. Then follows the
uncle, and for still stronger reasons, by meeting with his father, exquisitely wrought, Clementina. His hopes are not deceived ; which, after a conflict of filial, paternal, and but the pleasure that he experiences in jealous feeling, ends in an affectionate reconci- again beholding his dear uncle, and his liation. Isabella persuades Isidora to give a ring still dearer cousin, is embittered by the to Guido as a token of friendship. The Duke, at * banquet, whilst holding Guido affectionately arrival of one Florival, who accompanies by the hand, recognizes the ring. It was his the elder Dorville, and to whom he intends marriage present to ber. He conceives a hor. to give the hand of Clementina. rible suspicion, and is stung to madness. Guido This Florival is a fashionable fop, who Dow determines to depari for ever—ignorant of is continually dealing about his jests and what had caused bis father's jealous paroxysm. his pleasantry, some of which gave great The father is agaio reconciled to him. But another interview, noder the most innocent circum- amusement to the pit on the first night stances, and against Guido's will, is produced that this piece was performed. Florival between him and Isidora, in a garded. The suddenly becomes enamoured of Denisa, father, led by Isabella, surprises them; and, in Dorville's female servant, who is betrothed his fury, or rather in the fixed fearful calmness of despair, passes sentence of death upon Guido | act of breathing out his protestations at
to Blaisot, the gardener. Caught in the and orders bim to instant execution. Casti, in the mean time, bas discovered the intercepted the feet of Denisa, he is treated and disletters, and reveals to the Duke the horrid trea- missed according to his deserts; and just son of Isabella and the monk. The wretched at this juncture, a servant brings in a let. fatber invokes heaven to save bis sop from the ter addressed to M. Dorville : as the uncle fatal stroke; and issues a mandate to arrest the || is the only one who is known by that execution, but in that moment the dread volley
he is heard from behind the scenes, and the Duke,
opens it, and reads as follows:--agitated with a super-human pang of remorse,
“ My dear Friend,-Your success goes on expires distracted with the horror of having de- || swimmingly, but it prevents my keeping your prived a beloved son of life,
secret any longer; I have told every one that you are alive ; your last piece of three acts has
inade a prodigious poise at the Academy, and, FRENCH THEATRICALS.
in concurrence with the public, they have ap
pointed yon to the place that is now vacant, &c. THEATRE ROYAL DE L'OPERA Co.
&c.” MIQUE.—Sketch of L'Auteur Mort et Vivant ('The Dead and Living Author); a comic
“ I am a member of the Academy! I
kuow not how to contain myself for joy! opera, in one act. Dorville, it may be justly said, is dead to
Quick! quick! an arm-chair!
Let me the world: as all Paris is astonished at his practice! Give me the letter!”—This letperiodical lethargy, he thinks he will reap ter, and still more the joy that bursts forth some advantage from it, as the Parisians || from Durville, lets the uncle at once into sincerely regret this unrewarded talent cut
the secret : his nephew had lost his favour off in its very blossom, and which, in its by turning poet, but old Dorville now for. fall, left fruits of such promising ripeness! | gives him, embraces him, and bestows This welcome intelligence, imparted to him
on him his daughter Clementina.
The music does not strike by its origioby bis only confidant, comforts him during his first reverse of fortune, and the absence | ality; it is chiefly in the pastoral style. of a young female cousin, whom he knew SECOND THEATRE FRANCAIS.—Eugene when a child in America, and of whom he et Guillaume, ou les Amis d' Enfance ; a co. always entertained the most tender remem- medy, in four acts. brance. He was himself very young, for Two youths, who have been playfellows be is informed that his uncle, the father of and companions from childhood (one rich, Clementina, is returning home with his and of noble descent—the other poor, and amiable daughter, who arrives the same the son of an honest husbandman), are day that his nephew is lying dead in his sent to Paris to the same seminary of edu. cation : the first, as an opulent boarder, The fortune of war has suffered to fall has his apartment to himself, and a parti- || into the power of Mahomet a beautiful cular tutor to instruct him. M. Eugene de Venetian, named Anna, the daughter of Senneville, as the descendant of an an- the overseer Erizzo, the most mortal enemy cient house, merely studies for form's sake; || of the Turks. The Sultan, who is much and when his scholastic career is at an end, | occupied with the charms of Anna, and he launches into the great world, where, who thinks very little about her birth, is in the vortex of dissipation and debauchery, so violently enamoured of her, that he is is soon swallowed up the magnificent pa. resolved on violating, in her favour, the trimony transmitted to him by his parents. | charter of the seraglio, by making her
William Delorme, a simple burser, ren- his wife. But Anna does not return bis ders, while at college, the greatest services | love; ber heart is already given to a young to bis splendid friend, M. de Senneville ; | Italian painter, named Bellini, whom one he assists him when he is idle, and spares of those incidents, so rare in real life, but him the trouble of composing his themes so frequent on the stage, has also conductand his versions, and he even finds means ed to the seraglio. He happens to be Mato spare, from his scanty pittance, enough homet's chief painter; and the Sultan, deto repair the breaches that the prodigality | sirous of having a portrait of Anna, ivtroof the extravagant boarder has made in duces ber to Bellini. The two lovers forhis own ample purse. When these young | get how requisite it is for them to dismen enter the world, they conduct them. || semble, and they would be lost were it selves, as may well be imagined, in a very not for the fool Roberti, who, according opposite manner. Senneville is soon ruin- to custom, is the wisest person in the ed; Delorme has enriched himself abroad, | piece. Roberti helps the young people and arrives just in time to save bim.- || very cleverly out of the scrape their imSuch is the general plan of the fable, || prudence had nearly brought them into, while numerous amatory incidents fill op and promises to favour their escape during the rest of the piece.
the darkness of the night, so favourable The scene opens by Edward and Sa. to lovers. In order to succeed in this diffi. batier, who are each employed in attack- cult project, he joins in a conspiracy with ing the corner of a paté de foie d'oie gras, some Janizaries. The Janizaries, furious and in lightening the cellar of their master | against Mahomet for bis being about to of a few superfluous bottles. Armand, | take a Christian to wife, are resolved to the valet-de-chambre, comes in, and after | strangle the innocent Anna. Roberti, by having given a lecture to these gentlemen || bis eloqnence, obtains, as a mitigation of on their want of fidelity and on their glut- | this punishment, that it shall be changed tony, sets down with them to table, with- into a banishment from the Musselman out further ceremony. On the first night || territories. of representation there was much hissing The second act shews us the gallant during this scene, and the first act passed | Mahomet giving a splendid ball for the under every appearance of marked hostility | amusement of theunfortunate Anna. When, on the part of the pit.
to her misfortune, she has been thus diThe imprudence of the author's friends, || verted for about five-and-twenty minutes, and of the performers, in seeming resolved an unforeseen reverse takes place: Erizzo to cram this piece, as one may say, down has been made prisoner, with his Venethe throats of the audience, will, we fear, ) tians, by the Sultan's troops, and is brought notwithstanding it has merit and interest, | in loaded with chains. Erizzo, to the surrender it an unpopular performance. prise of all, recognises his daughter: Mo.
THEATRE DE LA Porte St. Martin. || homet bimself feels deeply interested; he This theatre has lately brought out a new gives orders to loosen the chairs of the melo-drama, the hero of which is Mahomet overseer, and leaves him alone with Anna. II. ; that Prince so brave, yet at the same Erizzo then forbids his daughter to marry time so cruel, and whom a contemporary this Turk, who is, nevertheless, one of the historian styles, with reason, Alexander best of men, for he grants liberty to all the always drunlar
followers of Erizzo.
la the third act, the prudence of the traits of the different characters are ad fool Roberti has prepared every thing for mirably drawn; and the trials undergone the flight of Bellini, Erizzo, and Anna.- | by the lovely and virtuous Isabella, the According to his instructions, they all heroine of the piece, are great indeed: she meet together in a gallery of the seraglio: rises superior to them all, and is, throughout Roberti takes with bim Bellini and Eriz- the work, entitled to our warmest admirazo; there seems no reason why Anna does tion, love, and esteem. pot follow them-it is a great fault in her,
The writer of this interesting work asas well as in the author, and she is punish. sures us, in a short Preface, that it is a ed for it. Mahomel, like all other tyrants, ' first attempt; we sincerely bope it will cávnot, neither ought he to sleep; he ar.
not be the last ; and we do not scruple to rives, discovers bis mistress in this plot, say that we discover first-rate abilities for and commands his soldiers to pursue the the writing of a modern novel; for fashion. fagitires; they bring them back, and Ma- able parties, and other scenes in modern homet dooms them to death. He is resolv- life, are striking likenesses. ed to strangle Anna with his own hands, The character of Isabella's father is well when he soon finds other employment: sketched, as is that of Frederic Westbourne, the Janizaries have revolted, and are rush which occupies a more prominent part of ing in by numbers; but Erizzo and Belə the canvass : Miss L'Estrange yet lives in lini bring in their Venetians, and put the many a modern beauty, who acquires rebels to flight. Mahomet, struck with talents only for their display. The hero, this important service, unites the two Lord Clanneron, the future husband of lovers, with that generous sensibility which Isabella, discovers many traits of the Granalways characterized the good Pasha of dison school : that of Sir Allen Mowbray is the Caravap.
too highly coloured, nevertheless it is THEATRE DE Vaudeville-Les Fr. amusing ; but we think.no man in his
senses would write such an offer of mar, lies du Jour (The Follies of the Day). The story of The Follies of the Day is riage as that contained in his letter to
Isabella Harcourt. very simple: M. Lesage, an honest pro. vincial, and a fanatical partisan of reason,
Among the best drawn characters in the has caused to be constructed several im- world of fashion, is the Marchioness of mense buildings, in which he wishes to Tewkesbury; we are sorry we see so bring together all the follies that have little of her: there is much original wit in taken place in Paris; and M. Lesage is less her comparison of Cobweb, Peas-blossom, embarrassed iu peopling bis vast mansion
and Mustard seed. of real follies, than Socrates was in filling
All the subordinate characters are well his small house with true friends; and drawn, and evince a knowledge of human such a petite maison may well be deemed nature. a bedlam. His correspondents at Paris do
The most striking scenes in the work pot fail to visit bim: there are politicians are, when Isabella finds her father dead, and wise men, with beautiful Corisandres: the impetuosity of Frederic Westbourne and this German kind of nonsense excited when he finds Isabella for ever lost to him,
and the happy transition from sorrow to joy, on the well-established claim of Lord
Clanneron to his riches with his title, the LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.
former of which appeared suddenly spatched from bim by a presumptive heir.
We hope the author will pardon us for Traits and Trials; a Novel. London, pointing out some defects; as it is a first 2 vols. 12mo.
essay, we trust the critique will not be We have seldom perused a work of taken amiss. There are too many smatthis kind that has given us more satisfac- terings of French from almost every chation than the volumes before us ; so short, |racter, both in their letters and couverso full of incident, and the events so agree sation ; and as the writer adapts them well, ably told and so pleasingly diversified. The "and seems thoroughly acquainted with the
REVIEW OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.